


Tumblr Requests

by wilddragonflying



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Requests, Samulet, Wincest - Freeform, samulet fix, samulet return
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the requests that I get from tumblr. This will probably be a hodgepodge of fandom stuff, and I'll make sure to title the chapters so that you can see what fics you want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reveal-Wincest

Dean and Sam never spent much time in each other’s rooms, now that they could have separate rooms. The rooms became their sanctuaries within their joint sanctuary. After the showdown in the church, where Sam gave up the trials, Dean helped Sam into his room, carefully settling Sam into the bed, reminiscent of when Sam was young and Dean was taking care of him while John was on a hunt.

His breath caught in his throat as he remembered that whenever he’d settled Sam into bed after _that_ Christmas, he’d had the amulet hanging from his neck, a comforting weight, a constant reminder of the most important person in his life.

“Dean,” Sam croaked, reaching out and gripping Dean’s upper arm in a shockingly firm grip.

Dean moved his hand to cover Sam’s. “I’m right here, Sam, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, looking into his brother’s tired hazel eyes. Sam had gone through so much, and Dean’s gut twisted with guilt as he remembered what Sam had said: _You wanna know what I confessed? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down._ Sam had put himself through all of that because he’d thought it was the only way to prove to Dean that Dean could trust him, something Sam should never have had cause to doubt.

When Sam had said that he’d seen a light at the end of the tunnel, and that he could lead Dean to it, he’d meant that he’d lead Dean to it, but he wouldn’t go through himself.

“Dean—“ Sam coughed, lightly, and Dean instinctively reached out to cup Sam’s cheek, thumb rubbing lightly over Sam’s cheekbone.

“Hey, Sam, easy, you don’t have to—“

“No,” Sam insisted. “Need to—tell you—“ He coughed again, harder this time, but no blood came up, at least.

Dean kept stroking Sam’s cheek. “Tell me what?” he asked softly.

Sam locked his gaze with Dean’s, his eyes pleading with Dean to understand the significance of what he was going to say. “Love you,” he whispered. It was the first time since Sam was eleven that he’d said that to Dean. Dean felt his throat close up, but he could see the slightly worried look on Sam’s face.

“Love you, too, bitch,” he said, smiling through the tears threatening to fall.

“Jerk,” Sam murmured, his grip slackening as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile on his face. Dean waited until his brother was asleep before gently moving off of the bed. As he was turning, something caught his eye under Sam’s shirt. It was a small bump, and Dean reached out cautiously.

The object had a familiar weight to it… Apprehensively, a little bit afraid of what he might find, he lifted up Sam’s shirt, pausing when Sam shifted and murmured wordlessly in his sleep. Taking a deep breath, Dean’s fingers closed around something he hadn’t seen in years.

He pulled the amulet out from under Sam’s shirt, turning it so that the little face was staring up at him, the same black string pushed through the loop, his thumb running over the horns as he stared at the necklace that he’d recklessly thrown away when Cas had said that it was useless—even though it meant so much to Dean and Sam both. Apparently Sam had held on to the necklace, fished it out of the trash can in that hospital, and Dean couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He dropped the amulet, leaving it out of Sam’s shirt, and exited the room, clicking the light off and leaving Sam to sleep.

 

The next morning, Dean waited for Sam to come out of his room. Already the younger Winchester looked a lot better, and Dean noticed that he apparently hadn’t noticed that the amulet was no longer hidden under Sam’s shirt. Dean’s eyes tracked the way Sam moved as he walked around, going through his usual morning routine. His younger brother had always been attractive, and Dean had long since accepted that he was a messed-up fuck for wanting his little brother, but he’d—relatively—made his peace with it long ago.

Dean waited until Sam had his breakfast and had sat down to eat before he said, “How long have you had that?” without looking up from his magazine.

He heard the spoon clatter against the bowl, and he looked up, raising an eyebrow at the stunned look on Sam’s face. “What?” he asked, feigning surprise. “I saw it last night.”

He watched Sam’s throat work as he swallowed and then answered, “Since the hospital.”

Dean nodded, and an awkward silence fell between them. It stretched on for several moments before Dean broke it. “Why?”

He knew he didn’t have to say anything else, and he watched Sam intently as he strung together his answer. “I… I don’t know. I just—just didn’t think that it could end like that, ya know? The amulet… It’s us, Dean. And I didn’t think that we should end, just because something didn’t work out again. So I kept it and—and I started wearing it. Especially after the wall broke. Kept me… Kept me sane. And when the trials started, it gave me strength, made me think that maybe I could fix what had been broken—bring back what had been thrown away.” Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “I just didn’t want to give up any part of you,” he whispered. “You’re everything, Dean. I know, ‘no chick flick moments,’ but I can’t help it, ‘cause it’s true. You’ve always been everything. My biggest regret is how many times I’ve let you down, ever since I left for Stanford.”

Dean had put his magazine down, and he studied Sam, who was pushing his oatmeal around the bowl anxiously. “Sammy, you—you never really let me down. I am so damn proud of you.” He was shit with words, and they both knew it, but Sam knew what he meant, because when he looked up, his eyes were wet with tears, but there was a tentative smile on his face. Sam got up and moved to sit on the table beside Dean, reaching up to unclasp the necklace and hold it out.

“It’s yours, Dean. Always has been,” he said by way of explanation, waiting until Dean nodded before he leaned forward and—hell, Dean thought he was hallucinating it, but the look on Sam’s face said otherwise— _tenderly_ slipped the necklace around Dean’s neck, doing the clasp up in the back. Sam’s hands lingered on Dean’s neck, and he looked up at Sam curiously, watching the conflict in Sam’s eyes—his little brother had always been crap at a poker face when it came to Dean.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice low, rough from Sam’s proximity. He watched a slow fire flicker behind Sam’s eyes, and then Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dean’s and withdrawing faster than Dean could react. He looked up at Sam in surprise. “What—“

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Sam said, taking his hands from Dean’s shoulders and nervously fiddling with them in his lap. Dean was quiet for a moment before he reached out and laid his hands over Sam’s, stilling the larger pair. He watched their hands as he slowly wormed his hands into Sam’s so that they were holding hands, now, and then his lifted his eyes to Sam’s.

“I want it, too,” he said softly, reassuringly.

This time, when they met in the middle, Dean could feel the weight of the amulet pressing against his chest, bumping slightly, and it felt like coming home.


	2. Tension-Wincest

“Dammit, Sam, I told you to stay behind me!”

“If I had, then _you’d_ be the one injured right now!” Sam shot back, glaring at Dean. The hunt hadn’t gone well, obviously. They’d been tracking down a witch—Dean complaining loudly the whole time—and she had caught wind of their coming, and she had booby-trapped the place. Sam had spotted the trigger for one spell right before Dean walked into it, and he’d shoved Sam aside, getting himself a nice wardrobe to the arm for his trouble.

And Dean said that he hated witches.

Anyway, now Sam had a busted arm—it wasn’t dislocated, but he still couldn’t feel it—scraped up and down his whole right side, and a pissed-off older brother to boot. Great way to end a Wednesday.

Dean growled the whole way back to the motel, and once they were inside, he helped Sam to the bed. He poked and prodded, ignoring Sam’s slight hisses of pain. “Suck it up, bitch,” he grumbled.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered back by habit, grinning slightly at the scowl and thump to the back of the head that Dean gave him.

“No use,” Dean finally sighed. “Got to get your shirt off; I can’t see shit with it on.”

Sam groaned—that was exactly what he didn’t need: his older brother undressing him. Not because it was humiliating—though it totally was—but because…

Well, because Sam had had a crush on Dean since he was fifteen.

Yeah, it was messed up, but Sam had long ago figured that all three of the Winchesters were irrevocably fucked up.

Sam jumped when Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face. “Sammy, you still with me?” Dean’s face sported a frown, and dammit, why was he still so appealing with a scowl on his face?

Because he was Dean, and Fate loved to fuck with Sam, that’s why.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Sam said, tossing Dean a reassuring smile. The elder Winchester just snorted.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna have to cut your shirt off.” Without wasting time, Dean pulled out a pocketknife, flipped it open, and slit Sam’s shirt up the side and around the sleeve. Sam sucked in a breath, flinching to the side and frowning when Dean nicked the skin around his ribs. “Baby,” Dean said, snickering.

Sam reached up with his other hand and was _going_ to thump Dean on the head, but instead, his hand decided to bury itself in what little of Dean’s hair there was, his fingers digging into Dean’s scalp. Dean looked up at him in surprise, and Sam could have sworn that time stopped. Dean’s brilliant emerald eyes bored into Sam’s own, and Sam subconsciously licked his lips, a thrill running through him when Dean’s eyes flickered down to watch Sam’s tongue.

Sam didn’t know how long they stayed like that, all he knew was that he didn’t want it to end if it wasn’t going to end with Dean kissing him. Because as long as it didn’t end, he could convince himself that the reason that Dean was looking at him like that, the reason he wasn’t pulling away, was because Dean wanted Sam just as badly as Sam wanted Dean.

***

 _Fuck_ , Dean thought, watching Sam’s tongue dart out. He really shouldn’t be watching this, he should be pulling away, he should most definitely _not_ be entertaining the idea of leaning forward and taking just a taste, just one… little… taste—

He jerked back when he realized that he had been leaning forward. He felt his eyes widen, but he couldn’t bring himself to look Sam in the eye as he quickly got Sam’s shirt off and another one on him, as good as shoving Sam into the bed and yanking the covers over him before almost sprinting from the room.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck, _fuck_!” Dean muttered to himself, striding to the Impala and sliding behind the wheel, turning the car on and then gunning the engine, heading for the nearest bar. He needed something to distract himself from the thought of Sam, Sam laying in the bed, his eyes, his tongue, his lips, just _Sam_.

Dean groaned and smacked his fist against the wheel, wincing and immediately murmuring an apology to the car as he rubbed the wheel absently. He’d wanted Sam since he’d realized that Sam wasn’t quite his _little_ brother anymore, when Sam had started becoming more and more of a match for Dean whenever they wrestled.

But that didn’t mean he could take advantage of Sam while the kid was vulnerable!

…

Even if Sam had looked like he was tempting Dean on purpose.

Once Dean got to the bar, he tried to lose himself in the drinks and the pool, but every time he looked at his beer bottle, he could see the scene in the bedroom unfolding on the darkened glass, and every tall stranger looked like Sam.

***

Sam watched Dean run from the room, internally cursing himself. He _knew_ Dean didn’t want him that way; so why the hell had he pushed things?

Because he was getting so damn tired of waiting.

It was exhausting, and he just wanted it to be over, one way or another.

Sam sighed and rubbed his face with his good hand, the one he could actually move. The other one was developing pins and needles, so it would really be hurting like a bitch, probably around the time Dean finally came back, _if_ he came back tonight. He might just find some girl at the bar and lose himself in her for the rest of the night, and not come back till tomorrow morning.

Sighing to himself, Sam punched the pillow behind his head and threw himself back on the sheets, closing his eyes with a scowl.

Damn Dean and his pretty eyes, and voice, and hair, and—

And everything.

Sam was in love with everything about Dean, but Dean didn’t love him.

It was just something he was going to have to learn to live with.


	3. Rest Day- JackRabbit

Jack leaned against his staff as he watched Bunnymund work. He tilted his head, resting it against his arms as he studied the Pookah. Tall, lithe, but still muscular, the Guardian of Hope was an awe-inspiring sight.

Well, for Jack, it wasn’t just awe that Bunny inspired.

He knew it was weird—messed-up, even—a human, even a dead/reanimated one, crushing on what was essentially a giant, anthromorphic rabbit. But he couldn’t seem to help it; in the ten years since the Guardians had defeated Pitch Black, Jack had spent a lot more time with the Guardians, and Bunny most of all. Sometimes he actually helped with the eggs and other preparations for Easter, but most of the time he simply stood to the side, keeping Bunny company. He’d thought it had bothered the Pookah at first, but when he’d tentatively asked him about it, Bunny had said that he kind of liked having Jack around; made sure the Warren never got boring.

There were only a few days left—officially—in winter, and then it was down to the wire for Bunny’s egg production. The strain was showing on the Pookah, and Jack wanted to do something to—

A grin spread over Jack’s face as an idea came to him.

Bunny was probably going to end up killing him, but he would admit later that it was good.

***

Something was… off.

Bunny felt it as soon as he woke up.

The Warren was—

Content.

…

Which was weird.

Like, majorly weird.

Narrowing his eyes and assuming a ready crouch, Bunny warily moved out of his den, and nearly fell over from shock at the sight that greeted him.

The Warren was in full swing already, despite how—

Scratch that.

It was nearly noon.

Bunny glanced around, wondering how in the name of the Moon he’d managed to sleep all morning, when he was usually up before dawn. And with all of the activity going on, Bunny most definitely should have woken up.

“Hey, Bunny!”

Bunny whipped around to face the source of the voice, and he sighed when he saw Jack Frost coming through the air, staff in hand. “Hullo, Jack,” he said, forcing a smile to his face. “Any particular reason why the Warren’s running and I just woke up?”

Jack grinned. “Thought you could use a rest,” he teased, reaching over to ruffle the fur between Bunny’s ears. Bunny tried not to show how much he enjoyed the contact, but he got the feeling that it failed.

“Yer not my bloody babysitter, snowflake,” he muttered indignantly. But he had to admit that the Warren was running just as well as if he himself had been directing it. “Good job getting the eggs to cooperate,” he added.

“Oh, I didn’t do anything; the Sentinels did it all,” Jack commented, settling on top of his staff as usual. Bunny resisted the urge to kick it out from under the spirit.

“Oh.” Bunny was quiet for a moment. The Warren really could run well without him…

Jack echoed the thought. “At least for a day,” he added. “C’mon, kangaroo. Let’s go do something fun. Race, or something,” he coaxed, giving Bunny a winning smile.

Bunny pretended to think for a moment, and then he grinned. “All right. Race ya, to Tooth’s,” he said, taking off.

An indignant squawk and then laughter followed him as he kicked Jack’s staff out from under him as he launched down one of the tunnels, and Bunny chuckled, enjoying the feeling of a day off, a day to just have fun.

A day to just be himself.


End file.
